Page 14 of Chef's Kiss at the Chalet
Mounted to a pole was a small silver box with a keypad attached. Punching in the code that Megan had sent, I waited until the large gates swung open so I could drive inside the development. It was, for the most part, exactly like any gated community back in Denver, but the deeper into the development I traveled, the larger and more imposing the homes got. When theGPSfinally alerted me to 95023 Summit Pass Road, I saw the small rural postal box ahead. Beyond that was a gravel road. I drove for five minutes before the trees thinned.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my mouth falling open at the sight of the house before me.
To call The Viceroy stunning would be a gross understatement. The entire front of the chalet was filled with at least sixty windows of every shape and size. Six massive fieldstone pillars rose up from the ground to support three full floors of rooms. It appeared that the upper two levels had balconies jutting out in the front to use, perhaps, in warmer weather, unless you were really daring and sat out in the chilly winter air.
The surrounding trees were mature, but they looked like they were strategically placed at intervals around the house, each one seemingly planted to frame the home perfectly. As I drove up, I turned into the circular driveway and around to the back of the property, where Megan had left instructions to find a pair of cottages for staff. Waiting for me was a woman in her forties. She wore jeans and a sweater, which I took to mean that the Hawthornes at least weren’t overly picky about uniforms.
“Hi,” I said, jumping out of my car. I met her on the cleared stone pathway to the first cottage and stuck out my hand to shake hers. “I’m Eleanor Evans. I’m the new chef. I mean, chalet girl.”
She smiled tightly. “You’re early. That’s good. I’m Ali, the Hawthornes’ house manager. Megan informed me you were also delayed by the storm last night.”
“So sorry about that again,” I offered, contrite.
“Not at all. I only just made it up the mountain this morning as well. I’m afraid everything is a bit behind schedule now, so we’ll have to skip the full tour and take you right to the kitchen.”
No time to get my bearings. Just right into the fire.
“Sounds great,” I said, because today chipper was my middle name.
“You may deposit your belongings inside, then please follow me.”
The cottage apartments mimicked the style of the main house, although much smaller and less ornate. I quickly dug my luggage out of the trunk and shoved everything inside the front door, without sparing even a moment to glance inside.
“This way,” Ali called.
She was tall and slender, her presence made more severe by her perfect posture. Her light brown hair was pulled neatly into a French twist that I admired from behind while I scurried to keep up with her fast pace as she strode toward the main house along the stone path.
“Ordinarily, you’d enter the house through the staff entrance from your cottage, but I’ll take you around to the front door so you can get a sense of the property.”
My boots crunched across the snow as I followed her toward the front door, which was at least twelve feet tall and made of a solid piece of oak. It wasn’t overly polished or finished, but looked like it had been hewn from a tree and put straight onto the house with hinges.
“The Hawthornes aren’t due until this afternoon,” Ali said, leading us inside. “I’m here to help you get settled in. You’re aware they’ll require lunch when they arrive?”
“Yes,” I said, following her through the grand foyer.
“Good. I hope you enjoy your work here.”
“I’m looking forward to getting started,” I answered, wondering how many times she had to say this exact phrase to new staff after the Hawthornes ran the others off.
Much like the exterior of the chalet, the interior was rustic yet luxurious. The walls in the entryway were a soft, buttery white, with one accent wall created entirely of fieldstone. Inset into the stone wall was a large, square window with the most breathtaking view of the Front Range of the Rockies that I had ever seen. From the ceiling hung a two-tiered, circular chandelier with horns jutting out from the top to hold the light bulbs.
We went through a door beside the massive double staircase off the entrance. It wasn’t hidden, per se, but it wasn’t obvious either.
“This is the easiest access point to the staff area.”
“Have you worked for the Hawthorne family long?” I asked, careful to keep pace and not fall behind as Ali marched along.
“It’s been nearly a decade now. I manage all of their properties, so I come and go depending on what they need or which house has to be tended to next.”
She walked me through a series of austere hallways that were solely for staff use, like the hidden tunnels of Disney World. Through here, we had access to the entire chalet for housekeeping and other duties, while remaining out of the way of guests and the family.
“What brings you to us?” Ali asked. “I understand it’s your first time in this type of position?”
“It is, though I’ve been in catering for years and have worked in several restaurants,” I said. “This is a new opportunity for me. I’m very excited to be here.”
“It’s not usually too busy at this property.”
“Does the family have many homes?”
